Page 127 of The Ampersand Effect

Tobin could see an almost tangible exuberance in Grier as she ran her hands along the trunks, dug her fingers into the soil and—holy fuck—when she plucked a cherry from the tree and placed it between her teeth, pulling on the stem through puckered lips… Tobin forgot to breathe.

Grier asked LoLo and Harrow endless questions about the orchard—especially about Harrow’s work reducing its environmental impact. It was in the way Grier effortlessly infused herself into the people around her—Tobin’s family, and really anyone she met—that made Tobin realize she was defenseless against the emotions growing inside her.

“I trust you can knead some dough,” LoLo said, nodding toward the mixing bowl. She poured flour directly from the bag, the kind of confidence that only a seasoned chef could manage, having made the recipe so many times that measuring utensils had become an unnecessary burden.

“I can definitely do that!” Grier replied, removing her hand from Tobin’s back and stepping around the counter to take over for LoLo. “I can make the crust—if you want?” she added, nodding at the bowl. Tobin could tell she was being cautious, trying not to overstep.

Because with LoLo, that was an easy mistake. But LoLo looked at Grier, assessing her. She wiped her hands on her apron towel and shifted the bowl toward Grier. A curious smile tugged at her mouth, and there was an unfamiliar softness to her cheeks that Tobin thought might actually be endearment… for Grier.And—woah—did LoLo just let someone take over pies? Tobin hadn’t been allowed to make pies until she was in college!

She tried to catch LoLo’s eye, but her grandmother willfully evaded her attempts to silently ask her if she’d lost her mind.

Grier caught her eyes, though, and her excited pride radiated from every pore. When she looked to LoLo—already distracted, peeling hardboiled eggs for the potato salad—and then turned back to Tobin with a sly wink, Tobin knew she’d stepped into an alternate reality. Because… what? Grier was here. In her grandmother’s kitchen. Making pie. Her grandmother’s pie! And LoLo wasn’t even hovering!

Harrow passed behind Tobin and muttered, “Your eyes are about to pop outta your head.”

Tobin spun on the balls of her feet to follow Harrow’s movements, bugging her eyes even further to emphasize her disbelief. Harrow shrugged noncommittally and raised an eyebrow, as if to imply it was just another day at the orchard.No. It fucking wasn’t.

She turned back to the kitchen to see Grier grating butter into the flour for the dough.

Grating. Butter.

This was a disaster. LoLo was nothing if not a purist when it came to cooking, and using a dough blender—and hands—were the only tools deemed appropriate for LoLo’s pies.

Tobin coughed, trying to get Grier’s attention without drawing too much notice. She didn’t want LoLo to catch sight of this egregious pastry faux pas and chase Grier from her kitchen with a wooden spoon. Grier, too focused on her task, didn’t notice. Tobin coughed again, louder this time.

“Take a drink, Tobin,” LoLo ordered, glancing up from the eggs she was now slicing. Tobin smiled apologetically, then—No!—she froze, tracking LoLo’s gaze to Grier, still grating away.

Shit.

LoLo didn’t move. Grier kept grating. Tobin saw black streaks dance across her vision and inhaled sharply when she realized she’d been holding her breath.

Grier must have sensed the change—the silence, the four sets of eyes watching her—because she stilled and looked to Tobin, uncertainty etched across her face. Tobin plastered an embarrassed smile on her lips, one she knew offered no comfort, and shifted her gaze to the grater Grier gripped over the mixing bowl. Grier followed her eyes, and as comprehension caught up, glanced briefly at Tobin before finding LoLo staring at her, watching. Calculating.

“I—uh…” Grier gulped, discomfort clear in her wavering voice and the slump of her shoulders.

Tobin had never seen Grier less confident; her typically strong, unyielding posture folding in on itself. It wrecked Tobin to see her so obviously straining to salvage her reputation in front of LoLo.

“It’s a trick I learned,” Grier said tentatively, eyes scanning LoLo‘s unflinching expression. “It cuts the butter faster and distributes slivers more uniformly throughout the dough. I always found it helps increase the flakiness of the crust… but I can do it the traditional way if it’s important to you.”

She paused, “Really, it’s no problem. I’m sorry.”

The tension in the room was palpable. Silence hung between them, broken only by the light breeze through the screen door, causing it to ricochet softly against the frame. LoLo stared at Grier, who met her gaze—but Tobin noticed her shrink ever so slightly away from the woman.

LoLo blinked.

And blinked again.

Tobin had to do something—she had to salvage this before LoLo chased them both out.

“She—”

“Smart.” LoLo interjected, speaking over her. She raised a thoughtful brow, nodded once, and returned to her eggs as if nothing had happened, as if the world hadn’t just tilted on its axis.

Tobin stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She watched as Grier turned to her, pulling her lips into a mock grimace that exposed her teeth, the whites of her eyes accentuating their usual soft amber glow. She shrugged, winked, and blew a kiss at Tobin before returning to the pie dough.

It was fucking hot.

A warm rush of desire swept through Tobin’s limbs, settling pleasantly in her groin. Of all the scenarios she’d imagined for introducing Grier to LoLo, none had included this.